


The eye-for-an-eye business

by fupette



Category: Yellowstone (TV 2018)
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Recovery, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fupette/pseuds/fupette
Summary: The Dutton Family’s collective struggle after the events of Season 3’s Finale.I have no clue what will actually happen but I figure vengeance is high on the agenda.
Relationships: Beth Dutton/Rip Wheeler, Kayce Dutton/Monica Dutton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is my first language, all spellings and grammar issues are my own fault. My Irish spellings might annoy readers, but that is how my brain is wired & my spell check is configured! Some bad language is used in the story, but the cursing involved is no worse than what occurs in the TV Show
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, this story touches upon the events at the end of season 3, I have no clue what will happen season 4, please don't read if you haven't watched the Season 3 Finale or if idle speculation will bother you

Her world is ashen and darkness, as she uncurls herself from the protective ball she managed to huddle herself into. The miasma of smoke and dust pervaded her senses, turning her surroundings into a greyscale world. Beth needs to escape the empty husk of her former office, the putrid smell of brimstone heavy in the air. The absence of sound is jarring, but she figures the blast must have ruptured her eardrums, shattered like the bottles of alcohol previously held in her now shaking hands. Her befuddled eyes roam the room looking for her assistant, before her mind fills in the blanks. She can’t hear the sound of her anguished cry, but she feels it viscerally rocking her body, she’d need to make another phone-call to another family whose loved one isn’t coming back. She fights the bile rising in the back of her throat.

As her eyes adjust to the darkness, a wave of pain overtakes the initial numbness. She doesn’t fully realise her legs have buckled underneath her, until she lands jarringly on her knees. She needs to get out, despite the fiery shards of pain each step garners, she makes her plodding progress out. One foot in front of the other, the heat and dust is almost overpowering, it’s hard to navigate in the dusky darkness and her leg muscles have started to jitter with the effort of keeping her forward motion across the glass strewn floor, she tried to concentrate on her end goal, she needed to get the hell out of here and warn the others.

Her progress outside was hard fought, she could feel her strength failing her with each difficult step. She could see waves of flashing red and blue, indicating that she’d made it outside of the smouldering ruin of her office, she tried to continue but fell feebly forwards into the remaining rubble, her legs unable to support her weight. Recouping her faltering strength, she stumbled forward again towards the emergency services, her mind trying not to focus on the growing pain radiating from her back and legs.

Suddenly, EMTs swarmed to her side, triaging her most visible injuries. She can’t make them stop, she needs to find the sheriff, if someone tried to blow her up she’s worried that the rest of her family is in similar danger. She can see the medics’ lips moving but the words don’t reach her ears. Beth tries to bat away their probing hands, but suddenly she was on her back, the cervical collar limiting her movements pinioning her to the gurney. She doesn’t have the strength to pull herself up, feeling utterly helpless her mind imagining all kinds of evil scenarios threatening the lives of her loved ones. Incoherent with pain and worry, it took her a few minutes to register a warm hand enveloping her own. “Rip?” she manages to whimper out, her question sounding like a plea. She needs him to find her father and brother, in fact her racing mind wonders is everyone from the ranch in mortal danger? 

Rip tries to make sense of Beth’s plea, he is heartbroken to see her injured and agitated. His own nerves are frazzled, after his curt call to Jamie and an equally short call from Kayce left him apoplectic with fear and rage. To divide and conquer on their shared problems he volunteered to find Beth while Kayce focused on John Dutton. When he saw the smouldering wreck of Beth’s former office he was bereft. He was already in a morose mood after his visit to his mother’s graveside, he was now weak with worry. Her meek voice whispers in his ear as he draws himself closer to hear. Given the extent of her own injuries her concern for the others is commendable, reminding Rip that although Kayce was safe, John Dutton is still missing. He tried to placate her but his soothing words fall on deaf ears, for the moment Rip’s only focus is on Beth, trying to reassure her that everything would be ok.


	2. Chapter 2

Military life had taught Kayce many useful life lessons, he had dispatched the hired goons in his office with a practised ease. It was almost an unfair fight, once he heard the automatic weapons fire he was straight into Navy SEAL mode. Once the initial threat was dealt with, his thoughts were on his family, Monica’s plaintive sobbing still audible through his dropped phone. It took some coaxing, but Monica worst fears were allayed once she heard her husband voice reassuring her he was safe and well, that the danger had been dealt with. He phoned Rainwater, arranging for Mo to keep a discrete watchful eye on his wife and kid. If things kicked off in the Dutton Ranch he’d feel safer knowing a bona fide warrior was looking out for his immediate family. He knew that Monica would be on high alert, he trusted her implicitly to protect Tate and look after herself, but he felt better knowing she had back-up if danger came her way.

Kayce’s next calls were unanswered, his fears escalating with each unanswered ring. Kayce could rationalise his father ignoring a call, but Beth would never intentionally screen his call, Rip’s phone-call interrupted him before he could finish his thoughts. As he compared notes with his soon-to-be brother-in-law, contacting Jamie was sliding inexorably off the agenda. Kayce became increasingly worried about the earlier unanswered calls. He agreed with Rip that he’d find his father with the help of the bunkhouse, Rip would find Beth, then they’d regroup at the ranch, he’d live up to the military ideal of ‘No man left behind’.

It was simple common-sense, rather than elite tactical training that Kayce organised a number of ranch vehicles to trace his father’s journey from Jamie’s offices back to the ranch. He tasked the chopper to fly a search pattern on the main egress points to the ranch. Lloyd would ring ahead to John’s cowboy haunts, they’d redraw the plan if any concrete leads on John’s whereabouts were to emerge. He would take the back route home, with Jimmy injured from an earlier fall today, he knew they were light on boot-on-the-ground so every pair of eyes were crucial for the search party.

Kayce’s sense of urgency increased when he heard the chatter over his police radio. Shit, police and ambulances had been called to the street adjacent to Beth’s office, could this be a bizarre coincidence? As Livestock Commissioner he might be co-opted into the law enforcement response, he wished he had internalised the police codes, what the fuck was a 10-80? Reluctantly he knew he needed to stick to the agreed plan, he’d find his father and worry about Beth later, he’d every confidence that Rip would find and protect her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

John Dutton sat on the side of the road, his phone stopped the kill-shot to his heart but the other bullets had hit in the stomach region and that hurt like a son of a bitch. He mused that it didn’t hurt as bad as his perforated ulcer, but he could tell by his bloody hands he was in trouble. He groaned as he tried to advance from his seated position using the car to prop himself up, a fucking hit squad, he was surprised that douche Roarke had escalated things so quickly. His progress to the flat bed on his truck was excruciating, but he was sure as shit going to arm himself in case those cowardly bastards in the van came back. He’d also try to do some running repairs using his first aid kit, although the backroads tended to be quiet, someone would pass eventually he needed to buy himself time.

He called to the small boy, he had no idea if he was caught by a stray bullet or was still cowering in the fields. The thoughts of childhood traumas made him think about his own kids who could potentially be the next targets of those would-be assassins in the van. As a man with many enemies he mulled over the possibilities: Roarke getting revenge for his Morrow lapdogs? Unlikely as surely Market Equities could afford the most expert of assassins; Rainwater was playing things awfully pally recently, but if he indulged in a spot of racial profiling, he found it unlikely that Rainwater would employ poor white trash for such a delicate job. The attack didn’t seem particularly well organised, his mind fixed upon the biker gang a few weeks back, maybe he hadn’t scared those losers straight. The Beck brother’s toy militia could also be gunning for revenge. John was beginning to flit in and out of consciousness as he mused he had more enemies than friends.


	3. Chapter 3

When Kayce happened upon his father, it felt perversely like one of his many tours of Afghanistan, his first aid skills again being called into action. He’d seen the aftermath of IEDs and the mangle of his father’s stomach ranked high on the gnarliest injuries he’d ever witnessed first hand. With zero cell phone coverage he called for back-up on his police radio, cursing as he soon realised that he’d have to take his father to the hospital himself, the old man was delirious babbling about a child in the fields, he couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting for ambulances that were already out on a call. 

Kayce drove like a man possessed, he wasn’t expecting traffic on the backroads but his flashing blues should deal with that problem. He rang Ryan to secure the crime scene and steeled himself for his next call. “Sorry Dad, no word from Beth”, he was concerned by his father’s pallor and limp groan of a response. “I’ll ring Jamie”, Kayce tried to keep his tone even, he wrestled with the implications that assassins were roving around targeting Duttons, rationally he knew that Jamie should be safe in the state house in Helena. The goons he tackled in his office were professionally kitted out, he’d neutralised those threats but as his pale father could attest there was a second hit squad marauding around looking for blood. Giving up on reaching either Jamie or Beth directly, he rang Rip. 

Hearing that there was an explosion at Beth’s work almost made him swerve off the road, knocking him out of his clinical detachment. After righting the car, he caught a glance at the stricken look on his father’s face. Shit, three attacks…. but a hit squad was a different category to a bomb, that was indiscriminate overkill. Could that Roarke-person, that Wade squealed about be responsible for these attacks? The more he thought about it, the black-clad hit squad reminded him of the hired goons the Beck brothers had conscripted. But that bloody bomb chilled him to the bone, he’d need to warn Mo and everyone on the ranch about the danger of IEDs.

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Rip held Beth’s hand for the entirety of the ambulance journey, trying to soothe her during her brief spells of lucidity, when her painful whimpers turned to entreaties for him to make the pain stop. With great reluctance Rip accepted a call from Kayce hoping that he could ease Beth’s concerns about her father. Rip tried to process the fresh information that Kayce had imparted, Mr Dutton had been shot and they were heading to the hospital too. He cringed thinking stories of bombings and shootings, were more reminiscent of some of the darker war stories that Kayce had shared. He reflected on his terse call with Jamie earlier, he had his own suspicions, he knew Jamie had no love for the senior Dutton or his sister, but he knew Jamie and Kayce were tight. He couldn’t conceive of a universe where Jamie could have ordered a hit on his younger brother. 

Rip ruminated on the likely candidates behind the most recent attacks, knowing that John Dutton’s attackers where still at large. His gaze fell on Beth, she looked so small and broken strapped to the gurney. Burns and cuts formed a kaleidoscope of colour on her pallid face, the neck brace held her unnaturally still, while the wide straps kept her arms pinioned to her side as he stroked her hand lovingly. In her periodic cogent spells she could recognise him, he tried to stay in her eye-line hoping his familiar face might be a comfort. Once they arrived at the hospital, Rip had made a fateful decision, he pushed his mother’s ring onto Beth’s limp left hand, needing her to have this small token of his love and dedication to her, while they faced her hospital convalescence together.

He followed the EMTs as they navigated the crowded Emergency Room, bypassing the other waiting patients until Beth was situated in an examination suite. Beth gave a plaintive wail when they moved her to the hospital bed, in a daze Rip looked at the obscene bloody imprint left on the gurney like a sick Rorscach Test, a jarring reminder of Beth’s pain and suffering. Once the doctor was satisfied she had no spinal injuries, she cut the burnt and tattered rags from Beth, allowing the nurse to preserve Beth’s modesty by dressing her in the flimsy hospital gown. The doctor set Beth to rest in a lateral position, taking the pressure off her sore back and allowing her to tend to the large piece of shrapnel embedded in her patient’s thigh, wrapping the compression bandage tightly over the gash. The doctor worked efficiently, but she remained concerned that her charge seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, she hadn’t ruled out concussion. She directed the nurse to ready a blood transfusion kit and nodded her approval as the burly cowboy tenderly comforted his fiancé, returning her own attention to her patient.

Rip grimaced Beth’s once flawless back was now a mottled mess of angry red cuts interspersed with twinkly barbs of metal and glass shards. The doctor efficiently debrided each cut, adding a criss-cross patchwork of stitches closing deeper cuts and allowing the nurse to sweep the antiseptic wand in complimentary motions over each laceration allowing for the topical anaesthesia to be applied in unison. He clasped Beth’s hands lightly trying to not disturb the IV lines and the pulse ox monitor, as Beth continued to flinch as the doctor made her steady progress.

Beth was caught in the liminal space between the twilight of sleeping and waking, she fought to regain her senses after she blacked out from the hot hellfire pain of her thigh injury. It took long moments before her mind had fought through her torpor sufficiently to recognise her current surroundings, a hospital room and the ever dependable Rip guarding her territorially. The stochastic pain from her back made her flinch, she couldn’t hear the doctor ordering the nursing staff and Rip around, she couldn’t hear her own moans as she felt the periodic stabs of scalpel and forceps presaging the hunt for buried shards breaching the numbing protection of the ineffectual local anaesthetic. Her relief that the doctor had stopped her poking was transitory, the pen light shining in her eyes hurt, the doctor seemed to be untroubled by Beth’s revelation that she couldn’t hear whatever instructions she was meant to be following, she wished that the examination would be over. Beth tried to focus on the dancing words the doctor wrote on her clipboard, but she couldn’t marshal any sense from the assortment of letters her eyes still watering from the brightness of her second failed pupil reflex test. She’d have curled into a ball and deployed her best banshee scream if Rip hadn’t given her a reassuring squeeze of his free hand encompassing her own small hands while as he placed his pointer finger to her lips, his own mouth pantomiming a shushing shape. She could feel the soft stroke of his hand move through her hair with matching calming strokes accompanying each unheard shushing sound. In sheer exhaustion, Beth let her eyes close, allowing Rip’s to take in the doctor’s diagnosis and treatment advice. She needed some rest to recuperate


	4. Chapter 4

Kayce prowled the hospital corridors like a man possessed. He had left his Dad in the care of the hospital surgeons, after checking in with Monica, he focused on her suggestion that donating blood might make him feel less ineffectual and take his mind off current events. When he locked eyes on Jimmy and Mia in the hospital waiting area, he went to check on the ranch-hand out of politeness, ignoring the reproachful vibes from Jimmy’s girlfriend. Kayce quickly ascertained that Jimmy was essentially ok; just a little beat up; he was waiting on his discharge papers. Jimmy proceeded to complain about the earlier chaos from treating the bombing victims, trying fruitlessly to include the taciturn Mia in the conversation, hoping that complaining about their needless delay would be common ground in this increasingly awkward exchange.

Kayce extricated himself from the dead-end conversation, a glimmer of hope blossomed within him, he wondered if Beth might be included in the bomb victims in treatment here, that would indicate that her injuries weren’t so severe if she wasn’t medevaced to a larger hospital in Helena. Kayce displayed his badge prominently hoping this would deter any interfering security guards, as he effected a casual amble while nervously peering into each examination room in turn. His eyes alighted on Rip first, he could see his distinctive silhouette backlit from the various machine’s arrayed around the hospital bed, it took a second for Kayce to intuit the bed’s occupant was Beth. He watched Rip stroke sooty hair making him feel like an interloper to the tenderness of a private moment. From behind Beth looked like a surreal mummy, the effect of the gauzy bandages wrapping her back enhanced by the low lighting. Kayce entered quietly hoping he wouldn’t startle the room’s occupants, when he reached Rips side he could see Beth was unconscious and his father’s right-hand man was utterly shook. 

“How bad?” Kayce’s question cut the uncomfortable silence between the pair. He could see that Rip was struggling to muster his thoughts and emotions, his doleful response spoke volumes. “Not good… but not as bad as it could’ve been”. Rip briefed Kayce on Beth’s condition, parroting back the doctor’s words. Kayce’s reciprocal update on John Dutton was woefully vague, both men knowing that ultimately they’d need to speak to the elder Dutton’s surgeon. The conversation turned to Kayce’s earlier gunfight. Rip was intrigued, the masked gunmen Kayce tackled seemed like a professional hit squad, it seemed odd that they would have failed to kill John Dutton, alone and unarmed at the side of the road. Kayce raised his concern that the hit squad was meant for Jamie, again lamenting the numerous unanswered calls he had left for his brother, Rip grimaced at the perverse logic here; after all no sane person would attack a bona fide Navy SEAL killing machine, Rip was still conflicted about Jamie’s loyalties, but he had to admit that Kayce’s points made sense, especially as Kayce had only officially assumed the mantle of Livestock Commissioner for the past week since Jamie had been officially sworn in as Attorney General. Shit, was Jamie in danger too?

Rip’s thoughts were interrupted when Beth’s nurse entered the room, for a further concussion test. Beth moaned her displeasure, once roused she had begun to stretch, immediately regretting the action as tendrils of pain shot bright and hot across her back. The nurse manoeuvred her upright without a fuss, administering the penlight test and finally checking her wounds and bandages. She noted Kayce’s visible blanching at the gnarly injuries again hidden under a swaddling of bandages. When the nurse gave her a Tylenol, she accepted it greedily, wanting to be clearheaded from the distraction of pain. She could dimly remembered warning Rip about the potential for more attacks, but she knew that Kayce’s position as Livestock Commissioner gave him the power to protect their family and home. Before she had the opportunity to press about her father’s absence, she could see all other eyes in the room were fixed on the door behind her. Ignoring the pain in her protesting back, she turned enough to see Jamie in her peripheral vision.

“Motherfucker!”

Rip watched in awe as Beth ignored her many injuries to lay an expletive laden tirade at the room’s newest occupant. The upshot to her current deafness was she didn’t have to waste intellectual bandwidth on whatever drivel Jamie was about to offer. Ever the peacemaker Kayce tried to defuse the situation but Beth’s vitriol was laser focused, accusing Jamie of being behind the bombing. Beth’s manic monologue was interrupted by the arrival of the duty nurse rushing to respond to Beth’s spiking heart rate monitor. The harried nurse looked unhappily upon the red blotch growing on Beth’s bandaged thigh, she’d need to call the doctor to redo the sutures on the injured leg. She shepherded the patient’s siblings out into the corridor, she had enough scut work to deal with from the bombing to worry about deranged sibling rivalries.


	5. Chapter 5

After being ejected to the hospital hallway, Kayce decided that it was time to check in on their father, knowing this would have the added benefit of getting Jamie out of Beth’s vicinity for everyone’s sake. He took a beat noting Jamie’s reticence to accompany him in tracking down their father’s surgeon, Beth’s accusation remained unspoken between them. Although he longed to probe the subject, Kayce recounted his own brush with death; filling in the uncomfortable silence as they waited for their father’s prognosis. He tried to gauge Jamie’s reactions to this story, hating that he couldn’t be confident in his own brother’s innocence. They exchanged a few theories about possible suspects for the attacks, but it was far less satisfying than his earlier discussion with Rip, Jamie was clearly weighing all the options but would not be drawn into Kayce’s speculation. 

When a doctor found them to announce their father was out of surgery and in a stable condition, Kayce felt inordinately relieved, given all the violnce of the day he was chomping at the bit to get home to Monica and prove to himself his family was safe. His father would be under the sway of anaesthesia for the next few hours, he would be monitored closely for post-operative complications, he would be safe for the time being. He knew that he’d need to be ready once his father was awake and giving orders, with Rip otherwise indisposed he’d need to round up the bunkhouse troops. He had a sinking suspicion that there would be a whole pile of paperwork for the shoot-out at his office, but like any good Dutton his loadstar was ‘Family First’. 

He was gratified that Jamie suggested he’d drive them home, it would allow him to respond to the calls and text he’d missed earlier, his first call would be a long overdue conversation with his wife, he could drop Rip an update lated too. 

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Rip normally respected Beth’s bravado and after Jamie’s earlier antics he felt like his fiancé’s admonishments were deserved, he knew however that Beth needed to rest in order to allow her body a chance to recuperate. The returning doctor stitched up Beth’s leg, replacing the blood-soaked bandage with clean gauze, the patient once again situated on her hospital bed, without explanation the doctor started a second IV drip, as the heart-rate monitor returned to its regular pattern. Rip paced the room, trying to expel his nervous energy and not dwell on the bloody mangle of Beth’s back or the large gash on her thigh. Beth had calmed once her brothers were escorted from the room, but whatever meds where in the IV seemed to have mellowed her out completely.

In her newly relaxed state she gave him a tight reassuring smile, which just knotted his guts in worry, he’d need to keep them safe while she was incapacitated, her attackers were still on the loose. Rip answered his phone without ceremony, happy to allow the doctor to finish Beth’s impromptu check-up and eager to get an update on Mr Dutton. He was relieved to hear that John Dutton was out of surgery, barring any complications he could be out of the recovery room tomorrow. He trusted that a suite could be organised for both the recuperating Duttons, however he’d need to bide his time, he could tell Beth’s earlier behaviour hadn’t endeared her to the hospital staff. They would all be guided by Mr Dutton's plans anyway, through sheer force of his outsized personality he always tended to get his way.

As the harried doctor left to treat other patients, he could feel Beth’s expectant eyes on him, “Rip, what’s going on?”. He raised a placating hand, a gesture to Beth to calm herself. “Beth, please. You need to sleep”, his hands emphasising the words by a crude sign language, watching as she tried to push herself upright on the bed. Her tight grimace told him she was in pain “Rip you are such a pussy, tell me what’s happening, where’s my father?”

Rip gathered the abandoned clipboard, lamenting the crudeness of the medium while quickly writing ‘Mr Dutton out of surgery. Ok.’ He watched Beth studying his words incredulously. His heart broke anew when he saw the worry and confusion on her face, “What?…I mean how?” her voice suddenly small and child-like. He couldn’t hide the truth from her, he could see the spike in her heart rate as she read gunshot wound. He quickly wrote that Kayce was attacked too but he’d overcame his attackers. 

Beth struggled against a pair of restraining hands, she wanted to get out of bed, she wanted to blindly rage and battle. She was ignorant to Rip’s heartfelt plea to stay put. She couldn’t find the strength to push his restraining arms away as she’s still weak from her injuries. Rip’s touch was featherlight as he directed her back to a resting position. She could feel his large hands capturing her own, his large fingers stroked a back and forth metronome of comfort, she noted the ring on her wedding-ring finger. This pulled her back to the present, her tired eyes met his worried eyes. The moment crystallised between them, she’d demur to his request to rest, but ultimately she’d insist on action once she was fully rested and recharged.


	6. Chapter 6

Kayce felt a swell of relief as Jamie’s car reached the Dutton ranch driveway, he had longed to see Monica since the earlier attack but events with his father and sister had overtaken him. The greeting by his wife and son was a welcome balm from the tribulations of this choatic day, the quotidian task of putting Tate to bed felt like a privilege rather than a chore. 

Kayce pulled Monica into a tight embrace. “Sorry if I scared you, it was one FUBAR day”. He could feel Monica return the hug enjoying the intimate moment as the homestead was uncharacteristically quite, “Will you tell me what happened?” her voice was tight, she was clearly trying to avoid a confrontation but he could sense the recrimination behind the question. He grimaced knowing he owed Monica an explanation but he was cognisant that the danger had not passed, “Of course…. let’s talk now, do you mind if I include Jamie? I want to talk to the bunkhouse next, but family comes first”. He hoped that plan might placate his wife, he knew his optimism was misplaced as Monica’s piteous look told him he was missing some obvious point, “Jamie’s gone, he breezed in and out of his office while you were reading Tate’s story. He didn’t seem to interested in chatting to me at any rate”. Monica’s wry reaction was beginning to make sense, Kayce couldn’t understand why his brother wouldn’t muster a level of common decency and politeness towards his wife. After the events of the day Jamie’s actions were odd but not his primary concern. 

Monica listened intently as Kayce unburden himself sharing the known details of the earlier attacks, purposely skirting over the dramatics of his own gunfight. Monica’s compassion shined through once he completed his update, “Kayce, it’s ok go talk to the guys in the bunkhouses, I’ll talk to my Dad, he can babysit Tate, we should get back to the hospital” her voice was direct and authoritative, he was relieved she was taking charge, he knew that he’d need a level-headed voice in the room. It was clear that Beth and Rip would be gunning for revenge, frankly he was a little bit scared of what his father might direct him to do after such a blatant and outright attack on the family. He wondered idly if that was why Jamie had been so distant, the Dutton’s had been sucked into battling their own private Alamo.

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John Dutton woke to the unfamiliar surroundings of the hospital, the harsh lights, the clinical smell of antiseptic and the beeps of various machines became the focal point of his dissatisfaction. His will and ire were stronger than the sedatives sloshing around his system, some goddamn cowards ambushed him on the side of the road. His vengeance would be absolute. He could see Kayce standing sentry at the ward door. He gestured emphatically for his youngest son to come speak to him, he had a lot of questions that he wanted answers to.

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Rip watched the slow rise and fall of Beth’s breath, he had spoken to her doctor about the concern of concussion but he was happy to let her sleep while the medical professionals would allow it. He sat morosely allowing the events of the day to churn in his mind fantasising about what he would do to the person responsible for bombing Beth’s office. He was caught unaware by Kayce and Monica’s stealthy visit, until Monica gave a small throat clearing cough to indicate their presence, some gift-store bought flowers hanging limply in her hands. Without preamble Kayce explained that his father was waiting to speak to them both.

Kayce was surprised at Rip’s reticence to leave Beth’s side but he knew the ingrained fealty for his father was ultimately second nature for him. Monica’s presence would at least mean that his sister wouldn’t be left alone and this seemed to be one reason that Rip followed him out to the hospital corridor. Once out of his wife’s earshot he could speak to Rip more freely. “Rip, I have never seen him so mad, It’s….”, Kayce stopped mid-sentence trying to convey fully the depth of John Dutton’s anger but words failed him. ”Look you’ll see for yourself”, urgently ushering Rip along the corridor fearing the festering rage his father would allow build stewing angrily over the brief update Kayce had already given him.


	7. Chapter 7

Monica took Rip’s place in the uncomfortable hospital chair, feeling a little out of place, her thoughts casting back to her own recovery in this very hospital and the comfort she took from her own visitors for that trying time. It struck her, that she barely knows Beth, despite living under the same roof (mostly). Life and circumstances have moulded them into two very different people but Monica knew that Beth has always had her back, she proved it during Tate’s kidnapping and she knew it instinctively during that awful shoplifting saga. In a way, this was returning that favour, Beth mightn’t need or want her help but what Beth doesn’t appreciate is that Monica would fight for her people and kill to protect her people. Aside from Kayce; Beth is the only Dutton who qualifies as her people so she’d sit her ass down and wait in boredom until her sister-in-law was awake. 

Thankful Monica’s vigil was short, she could detect the changes in Beth’s breathing pattern before tired painful eyes meet her own inscrutable ones. She smiled encouragingly at Beth’s greeting a tired “Mornin’” tripping out of her mouth. “Your Dad’s awake” Monica advised , noticing that Beth was furtively casing the room, presumably searching for Rip, allowing Beth to make the logical inference where Kayce and Rip must be. Beth’s annoyance at the ringing noises in her ears was dissipated as Monica’s words filtered through softly, she could finally hear again. “Can you take me to my father?” Beth query was polite but Monica could sense she’d achieve her goal regardless of any third party help. In short order, Monica found a wheelchair and informed the duty nurse where they were heading. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kayce moved apologetically into his father’s room, he could tell by the hubbub that the elder Dutton was causing consternation, as a particularly harried looking nurse crossed paths with him, continuing out the door. In the short space of time that he took to collect Rip, John Dutton was now propped more upright in his bed, he had dispensed with the nasal cannula and was fiddling with his IV drip angrily. Kayce left his concern unvoiced knowing his father’s disregard for medical advice or any counsel that he viewed as an inconvenience.

With the two new arrivals John Dutton motioned for the remaining nurse to leave while beckoning Kayce and Rip closer. “This is fucking war, I want you to get all the bastards involved”. John’s fury was self-evident. Kayce wished he could share his father’s bullish approach, he nervously enquired who exactly ‘all the bastards’ were, daunted by the possibility of a war not just an isolated revenge mission. 

Rip waited to see if his opinion would be sought, he was mindful of Jamie’s absence but unwilling to raise a sensitive subject while they were discussing life and death plans. Jamie’s perfidy had been laid bare once John had recounted their earlier meeting, suddenly Beth’s reactions seemed less extreme, Rip wishing to tear the traitorous Dutton limb from limb. Before he could press home this point to his companions, Beth made a timely entrance. He could see John’s steely facade cracking momentarily, when he laid his eyes on his only daughter, battered and bruised from her earlier ordeal, her wheelchair underlining her frailty as she was pushed forward by a determined looking Monica. With a sigh John Dutton cleared his throat, ready to lay out his plan, tacitly trusting all of them as he was asking them all to stray into illegal territory. 

His plan was neat in its simplicity, declare war on the Montana militia or any remaining Beck loyalists, bring the fight to them, keeping it bloody and dangerous. They’d weather the impending storm when the shit-show of crime and publicity make Market Equities plans untenable, a bombing at their recently acquired offices was surely a big motherfucking red flag to get the hell out of Montana. He’d allow Beth to drag the company’s CEO through the legal mire, while Blue-Thunder’s Class Action suit would continue to rumble through the courts. He’d drown Governor Lynelle and A.G. Jamie in the same tidal wave of lawlessness and crime , leave them to stew under the dissatisfaction of their constituents. John didn’t like playing the long game, but he needed to hobble the financial and political clout of these opponents. Given Monica’s presence he didn’t fully tip his hand, his actions were designed to clear the board back to the original feud. He’d worry about Rainwater later, he was far too noble an adversary to get involved in this outlaw shit, he would ultimately use this weakness to his own advantage later. In the meantime he could use the initial actions to gauge if Monica could toe the Dutton line fully. He looked over to Rip and Kayce knowing that each man would follow him to hell and back if he requested it, he’d allow them to flesh out a game plan once they were all safely back at the ranch, he’d suggest Jimmy’s old drug contacts would be an easy way to ignite a turf-war the Montana militia. Finally, his eyes cast down to Beth in the wheelchair, “What do you think Honey?” he could see the cold calculation in her eyes as she played out the various scenarios in her mind, he took solace in her small smile. “Daddy, it’s a good first step, I’m in as long as I get to make all those rotten bastards bleed. You said it best at Lee’s funeral we fight everyone” John Dutton agreed with the sentiment; he was ready to make a desert and call it peace.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The end * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Sorry for the wishy-washy ending, to be honest I haven't a clue what next season will bring, but I'm chomping at the bit for more Yellowstone on my TV screen. I can see John Dutton go completely scorched earth in response to the attacks, I wish next season wasn't sooooo far away)


End file.
